The Death of Walter White
by minderbinder
Summary: This takes place between two episodes in season three, and sheds some light on Walt's choice to divorce Sky. There is NO character death here, it's only figurative.
1. Kalidescope

_Thanks for reading, And I hope you enjoy. Please feel free to review and/or comment! I really enjoy hearing from my readers!!_

Several images competed for space in Walter's mind as he walked along the sidewalk. In every store window, he caught different versions of his own reflection. Most seemed to be perfect strangers to him.

There was an older bald guy with the goatee that walked beside him in the glass from time to time. Walt thought of him as mid-life crises man. Well maybe, he thought darkly, it was end life crises man instead.

Other times, there was a similar looking guy whose face was filled with sadness, and maybe a little desperation. This man's walk screamed hopelessness and resignation. The gait of a beaten man.

Almost, when he finally thought he was seeing his own true reflection, the sky darkened and a monster turned to face him from a cafe's window. The burning eyes of a killer looked back at him. They mocked him. They hated him.

Walt's hands were already on the newspaper box, his knuckles white with effort from trying to pick it up, when he found a measure of control. He was relieved that the box was anchored to the sidewalk. Otherwise, he would have sent it crashing through his own reflection.

But now the whipped man looked sheepishly back at him from the window as he fumbled in his pocket for change. Glancing around to see if anyone was looking, he grabbed a paper and entered the small restaurant for a late breakfast.


	2. Check Please

"What'll it be Hon?" The waitress asked around her gum as the bald man studied his menu.

"Can I have just a minute please?" he asked without looking up. Tapping her order pad with her pen and rolling her eyes, she turned with a curt "sure" and sauntered away.

After a minute or so, Walt couldn't decide if he was really looking for breakfast, or just hiding from the world behind his menu.

As soon as he took his seat in the booth, he put the spoon in the coffee, and pushed the napkin holder as far away as possible. Edging the Salt and pepper shakers behind the plastic ketchup bottle, he wanted to be certain that there would be no reflections at the table.

"OK Hon, what can I get for _you_?" the waitress asked again. Walter, still unable to choose, was about to ask for a little more time.

"I think I'll have the short stack and eggs over easy," came a voice from across the table.

"You want the sausage or the bacon with that sweetie?" She continued automatically.

"No thanks, I don't eat swine." the voice responded as Walt slowly lowered his menu. "however, I think my indecisive friend here wants to have one of these waffles with all the toppin's 'n shit."

"Who are you, and how dare you order for me," Walt hissed through clenched teeth after the waitress left, his eyes narrowing to slits.

"First," the man said leveling a sobering stare at Walt, "I wanted to make sure the waitress didn't come back for a few minutes. Since you couldn't make up your mind, I made it up for you. If you don't want what I ordered, then don't fuckin' eat it. I just need you to hear me out." The man paused and leaned towards Walt conspiratorially. "Besides," he continued in a tone just audible over the background noise, "the real question is who are you? Do I call you Walt, or would you prefer Heisenberg?"


	3. A Gangster By Any Other Name

Walter stared at his new companion as he sipped his coffee, sizing him up. Hmm, he thought, the clothes are off the bargain rack from the thrift may be working for Gus or another dealer.

However, he didn't talk or act like a junkie, or a bum. The oddest thing had to be the stranger's Jerry-curl hair. There was just no way anyone could work for the DEA with hair like that.

"Alright," Walter started, "you've got my attention. But, before you say anything else, at least tell me your name."

"Who I am isn't really important right now," he said leaning back and relaxing a little. "Besides, even if I did tell you my name, you wouldn't need to use it. It just seems a little unnecessary ." He paused to pull a sip from his steaming mug.

"After all, it's just me and you having a quiet chit chat over breakfast." He turned his eyes back towards Walt again and gave him a hard stare, "Right?"

" I don't know what kind of game you're playing," Walter growled feeling his anger rise, " but I don't like it."

"You can call me Caine if it will calm your ass down enough to listen."

"You mean like biblical Cain? The Cain that killed Abel?" he asked in surprise.

"No, like the Caine from that TV show Kung Fu." He paused to let Walt speak, but was met only with a blank look. "Like Caine from the show, I wander the earth and get into adventures from time to time," he continued.

"So you're a transient?"

"No, dammit! Look, right now I'm a messenger," he said speaking a little louder, and a little slower. "I'm here to help you get your head strait before some other motherfucker comes along and rips it off your neck."

"Well," Walt replied smugly, "what makes you the expert on me?"

"I know you're trying to put your family back together, and get back into a regular life. I also know that you just lost your job, and got a rather substantial offer on another one." Caine said without hesitation.

"Granted," Walt said sedately as the waitress walked up with their food. "How is knowing that going to help me?"


	4. Bald Heads and Ugly Truths

"I guess they call it a _royale _because of the metric system." Walt said as the waitress slapped the ticket down in passing.

"I figured you'd know bein' a chemist and all." Caine chuckled, glad to see that Walter was finally relaxed.

"What was this waffle thing called again?" Walt asked. "It _was_ a tasty waffle."

"Oh yeah, I think they call it the big fruity waffle," Caine smiled. "I ordered it for you because you look a little fruity, and you were waffling. It seemed to suit you." This got an honest laugh from the bald man as he got the joke.

"Who do you see in here?" Caine asked holding the napkin holder up for Walt to see.

"I finally see me, the true me that is," he said. "And I'm proud to say that there's only one of me in there." He paused a minute, putting his hands on top of his head. "I guess, when you think about it, Walter White died the day he climbed into that RV."

He looked up, putting both hands on the table. "Now I'm the one with no name."

"That's right," Caine agreed. "Because once you wake up, you can never go back to sleep. Once the genie is out of the bottle, there's no puttin' that motherfucker back."

"Well, I have to go see someone, so I'll get this if you don't mind," Walt said reaching for the ticket.

"As long as I can leave the tip," Caine replied reaching for his wallet. "Oh,and one more thing before we part company."

"Yes?"

"You're in a dangerous line of work now. With that fuckin' cue ball you got between your shoulders, you stand out like a sore thumb. Go get a damn wig!"

~The End~

_Thanks to all who actually read the whole thing, I hope you enjoyed it. Please review,comment flame, or otherwise critique. If you picked up that Caine was Jules from Pulp Fiction, then your right. I just didn't want to write a crossover, so I changed his name. _


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